Used To
by Kyizi
Summary: When John Cena gets stuck in an elevator with Lita, he discovers a woman he never knew existed. [One Shot Complete] Challenge response.


**Used To**

**By Kyizi**

**Disclaimer:** The WWE and all related items do not belong to me; only the story is mine. No copyright infringement intended.

**Rating:** 12A/PG-13

**Distribution:** Please ask.

**Pairing: **Lita/Cena

**Spoilers: **All Lita storyline is fair game.

**Feedback: **Please, it makes me smile :)

**Notes: **This is a response to the Lift Challenge on litafics, where Lita has to get stuck in a lift with someone.

xxxxx

**Used To**

xxxxx

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" She was trying desperately not to whimper, but the soft chuckle coming from behind her told her that she was failing miserably. She turned and glared at him. "This is _not_ funny, John Cena."

"Woah, calm down," he said, raising his eyebrows and stepping back against the wall, his arms raised in submission. "It's just a mechanical failure or somethin', they'll have us out soon as."

"Unless 'soon as' means 'now', I don't care!" she cried. "It's bad enough that I'm stuck in an elevator with _you_ of all people, but that stupid mirror is creeping me out!"

John glanced at the wall behind him, seeing her ghostly reflection on the mirror that lined the back wall. The lights had died along with the movement, but a painful yellow emergency light had surrounded them a few moments later. Now that she mentioned it, the effect wasn't all that soothing. Especially when looking at their reflection.

"So turn around," he said with a shrug, indicating that she should join him. He slid to the floor, watching as she nervously tugged at her sleeves. He was actually surprised she was wearing something with sleeves. "I know you ain't all that good wit' small spaces," he continued, vaguely remembering an incident long ago when someone had jokingly locked the Diva in a cupboard, "but I know a few tricks. Got a big family, you learn stuff."

"Yeah," she said, glancing once more at the mirror and her short response caused him to frown. They weren't exactly friends, in fact, it was pretty safe to say that they were at each others throats most of the time, but she seemed so small and young and _scared_ as she stood before him. He wanted to curse his mother for instilling in him some weird protective vibe when it came to women. Granted, it hadn't stopped him from doing his finishing move on her in the ring – an action that still caused him to constantly feel the need to justify it to himself (he had yet to succeed) – but at that moment, he just wanted to put her at ease.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, instantly grimacing; he knew she wasn't okay. "I mean, anything 'sides the small space buggin' you?"

She seemed reluctant to answer, not surprising given their tendency to throw insults (among other, more painful, objects) at each other, so he reached out to take hold of her hand. She squealed and jumped back, her hand grasping at her chest and he jerked away in surprise.

"Hey, Red, I ain't gonna hurt you."

"You scared the shit out of me!" she cried.

"Sorry. Fuck, what the hell do you want me to do?"

"Nothing! I want you to do nothing!" She glanced around warily before beginning to pace in the small space, her gaze never leaving the mirror. "In fact, I take that back, I _want_ you to get me out of this damn elevator and away from that stupid mirror! I _want_ you to just leave me alone and I _want_ my life back!"

He frowned as she stopped her short lived pacing and watched as she closed her eyes. The light was dim, but he could tell from the expression on her face that she was cursing herself for giving too much away. He wasn't sure he wanted her to continue, wasn't sure he even wanted to know any more about her, but he had an innate curiosity. That and he was a nosy bastard.

"You want something'," he said, shrugging, "take it. Seems to me you're pretty good at that."

"What would you know," she shot back, but there was no venom in her voice, she just sounded defeated and tired. "I'm so sick of this," she said softly. He didn't think he was meant to hear her.

They sat in relative silence for a short while, only briefly breaking through it to have a short conversation with an all-too-cheerful hotel employee, who had casually (and with far too much pep in his voice) informed them their lift was suffering from a mechanical fault. Which, _of course_, was news to them, he thought as he rolled his eyes. John groaned as he settled back against the mirror, not all that pleased to be informed that the problem, whilst being dealt with 'quickly', was likely to take a while to fix.

He was taking the stairs next time.

"How long you been afraid of mirrors," he asked, the silence finally getting to him. Her glare, however, made him wish he'd kept his damn mouth shut.

"What do you care?"

He shrugged. "We're stuck in here. I figure I got time to care and you need to keep your mind off things."

"So, naturally, talking about it will make me _not_ think about it," she pointed out sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes. "If you'd stop lookin' at the damn thing like someone's about to jump out and grab you, then maybe-"

"You did _not _just say that!" she cried, leaning over to hit him. Hard.

"Ouch! Damn woman, that hurt!" At her glare, however, he fought off a smile. "You're not seriously tellin' me you think that's gonna happen." When she didn't answer, he smirked. "I think you watched too many episodes of the X-Files, Red."

"Just shut up."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, you don't like me, I get that-"

"Yeah, and you just think the world of me," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Used to."

She frowned. "What?"

He didn't look at her, his eyes resolutely focussing on the door behind her. He hadn't meant to say that. He'd really have to consider that thing where you thought before speaking, it wasn't something he employed a lot, but he'd make a concerted effort in the future.

"What did you say?" she repeated and it was only the hesitation in her voice that made him turn to her and, if asked, he'd deny that it was the look in her eyes that made him answer.

"Used to, I did think the world of you."

She shifted, but said nothing.

"Used to you could set the arena crazy, the fans loved you, you were on top of the world and I thought you'd never get off. Can't deny I wanted to be up there with you. Used to you had fire."

They sat in silence, just staring at each other, almost if they were rediscovering who the other person was. Maybe that they'd never known each other at all.

"Poltergeist."

He frowned. "What?"

"You ever see the third Poltergeist film?"

"Can't say's I have," he replied, beginning to get an inkling as to where the conversation was going.

"There's this scene where the little girl is lying in her bed. The whole of the opposite wall is mirrored and she sits up straight, turns to look at it and then gets up and walks right up to it. She lifts up one hand and moves it, watching her reflection, then does the same with the other. Next time when she does it, the reflection moves the opposite way and then a hand reaches out and pulls her in."

John shuddered.

"I really hate mirrors."

"Gotcha," he said and scooted away from the back wall so that he was sitting next to the redhead, the two of them looking into their darkened reflections.

"Why did you tell me?" she asked after a moment's pause.

He shrugged. "Why did you tell me?"

"Tit for tat." He smirked and watched her reflection as she rolled her eyes. "Keep the pervy comments to yourself," she continued.

"You said it, I didn't open my mouth."

"For a change."

"Well, you're the exp…" It was the first time he'd really noticed the look of hurt in her eyes. Or maybe it was just the first time he'd wanted to.

"Don't stop now," she said, and he tried to ignore the slight break in her voice. "You're on a roll."

"I don't normally know when to stop. Glad I did this time."

"You never have before."

"I shoulda never hurt you."

She kept her gaze locked with his in the mirror. "Physically or verbally?"

He winced, but didn't shy away from the answer. "Neither. I'd say sorry, but I doubt you'd believe it."

"Maybe," she replied. "But that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to hear you say it."

"I'm sorry."

She offered him a brief smile and he returned in kind, both of them still looking at the reflection rather than each other. He figured it was easier that way.

"Why do you stay with him?"

He winced. He never had known when to stop. Surprisingly, however, she answered.

"Because I have nowhere else to be."

"You could be on top of the world again."

She laughed humourlessly. "Yeah, I can see the fans welcoming me back with open arms."

She didn't wipe away the tear that fell from her cheek and there was something almost heartbreakingly ethereal about her reflection as she sat there, her arms wrapped round her legs. It was an image he didn't think he'd ever forget.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to have that many people calling you names every single day?" she continued. "To judge you? To judge your life when they know _nothing_ about you or who you are?" When he made to reply, she continued. "I know you get it bad sometimes, but they're so much harder on us." She didn't need to confirm that she was talking about women in general and Divas in particular.

"If any of you had done what I did, had gone through what I did, it would all be forgotten by now and you'd be off living your life again. Me?" She shook her head, another tear following the same path as the first. "I'm not allowed. Women get judged by different standards. A guy makes the mistake of cheating on someone, or sleeps with a different woman each night and he's a legend, but if a woman even thinks about it, she's a slut. Tell me where that's fair."

"It's not."

"No…it's not. And I get to be living proof."

"You've had a tough time of it, I'm not denying that-"

"'A tough time of it'?" she cried, giving an incredulous laugh. "Do you even know what I've been through?" He nodded and she shook her head. "Tell me. I want you to give me a list. Bullet points are fine."

He was reluctant, but she was relentless and he gave in.

"You've had Injuries. You've been fired and rehired. Someone bet they could get you into bed. You've been in inter-gender matches where you took the brunt of it."

"That was just the lead in; that was the calm part before things got really shitty. Keep going," she demanded.

"You've been fought over, threatened, stalked…"

"Keep going."

He was struggling to keep his voice steady as he watched her in the mirror whilst she cried silently. "Threatened into having sex-"

"That has a name you know."

He winced. "Raped, forced to marry…Lita don't-"

"Keep going."

"Miscarried…You teamed with Edge."

"Tell me why you think I did."

"I figure you had to love him."

She laughed and he wondered if he'd ever get to hear her do that and mean it. "Sure, because girls like me get to fall in love again."

"Lita…you could have asked for help."

"I did ask for help! Why do you think I'm with Edge?"

John blinked, surprised that it hadn't ever occurred to him in the way she clearly meant it.

"Edge and I didn't always get along, but we were friends once. A long time ago. The crowd, they forgave Kane for _everything_ he put me through and I hated them for it. I still do, because they can forgive him for all that, but they can't forgive me for getting away from it."

"Do you really need their forgiveness?" he questioned.

"No, but is it wrong to want it?"

John shook his head and took a deep breath. This certainly wasn't how he'd planned to spend his evening. He'd planned on meeting Orton in the bar for a few drinks and then figured he'd be able to relax and watch some TV, maybe have a beer or two. Instead he found himself stuck in an elevator with a woman he'd thought he knew well enough to hate…only to discover that he didn't know her at all. And he hated himself for not seeing it before.

"John, think of the list again."

"I don't really want to."

"Well, I want you to. I want you to think of everything on it and then think about the long list of things you've called me. Tell me, John Cena, do you feel like a big, tough guy?"

"No," he said quietly. "I feel like a jackass."

"You are a jackass." She tried to laugh, but her tears were in the way. This time he did look at her and, without thinking about it, without analyzing what it might mean, he just pulled her into his embrace. She didn't even fight him.

He wasn't sure how long they sat there, but Lita's tears were subsiding by the time the hotel clerk 'called' back to tell them they'd be out in about ten minutes. He wished she'd yell at him, hit him, or that maybe she'd make a sound whilst she cried. That thought made him feel like maybe he was a horrible person, but he didn't think it was natural for someone to look so broken, to cry about it and to not seem to actually _feel_ it. She looked empty.

"I'm so tired," she said softly, unknowingly echoing his earlier sentiment. "I'm so tired of everything. Of Edge, of the fans, of…_everything_."

"I can't go back, Lita," he said, softly stroking her hair. "I can't go back to things the way they were."

"Sure you can," she replied, finding his gaze once more in the mirror. "It's easy to pretend you don't know things, easy when you don't want to know them."

"I want to help you."

"The last person that offered to do that hasn't treated me that well. I guess it's my fault, because I let him and I pretend to like it."

John winced.

"We've never been together, you know. Not really. He just likes to let people think we are and I play along, because anything's better than being alone."

"You're not alone anymore," John said decidedly.

"You won't stick around. The only ones that do are the ones that hurt you and you already said you didn't want to do that anymore. Or maybe I just thought you did, because I wanted you to."

"I won't hurt you and I won't expect anything."

"Yes, you will."

He nodded. "You're right. I will. I expect that, somewhere along the way, you'll find that fire again."

"Put it out a long time ago."

He smirked at her. "I'll buy some matches."

Slowly, her face broke into a smile. At that moment, the lights flickered on and the lift juddered, before moving downwards.

"Hey, look at that," he said, standing and pulling her to her feet. "Amazin' what's in the power of a smile." He winked as she rolled her eyes. It seemed as if the end of the darkness spelled the end of their little heart to heart, or whatever they were having was. She was becoming someone else before his eyes. She swiped at her cheeks and tried to compose herself. Somehow, he preferred it when he could see the cracks, because it was easier to fix things when you could see they were broken.

"I meant every word, Lita," he said, needing to reassure himself as much as her.

She turned to him and flashed him a small, hopeful, smile. "Prove it," she said softly, turning as the doors opened into the hotel lobby.

She didn't look back.

"Don't you worry 'bout that, Red," he muttered to himself as he exited amidst a flurry of hotel staff. "I intend to."

He glanced back into the lift behind him, not sure how he felt about leaving behind the place that had let him into her life, albeit briefly. He intended to make that a permanent change. Catching his reflection in the mirror, he shuddered and turned around, heading towards the hotel bar.

"And damned if I'm ever watchin' that movie."

xxxxx

**The end**

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Okay…that was _so_ not where I had intended my muses to take me. At all! I was intending for it to be a light, flirty piece of fluff! One where storyline wasn't real. Yeah…easy to see that my muses are the ones in charge.

Hope you enjoyed. It's the first time I've ever written Lita/Cena, in fact, it's the first time I've ever written John Cena at all, but I kinda like where he (and the fic) ended up. Even if it wasn't where I'd intended things to go.

I really liked this challenge and am so tempted to write another one! Something lighter than this, though.

**Also, I'm still looking for writers who might beupfor taking part in a Lita Ficathon. Interested parties should check out the post on my LiveJournal (it's open to be viewed by all).**

**kyizi (dot) livejournal (dot) com / 111443 (dot) html**


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